


Never Just Friends

by AlyKat



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Sequel, Trip stops being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: Trip had taken a calculated risk and called Malcolm "babe". He'd produced a fake relationship with the one man he wanted a relationship with the most, just to get himself and two others out of a sticky situation. He didn't stand a chance with Malcolm and he knew it. So why then, when he put aside his own feelings and forced himself to playfully "break up" with Malcolm afterwards, did Malcolm actually look crestfallen?





	Never Just Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GuardianofFun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Still Friends, Right?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529190) by [GuardianofFun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun). 



> This is the sequel to GuardianofFun's fic "Still Friends, Right?" I couldn't handle poor Malcolm being heartbroken at the end of their fic, so I told 'em I was gonna write this and fix things! Luckily, they're freakin' awesome and was thrilled that I demanded to do this, and here we are! All better!! 
> 
> Definitely will make more sense if you read their fic first.

The first contact -- fine, shore leave, he’d call it what it had really been -- hadn’t gone at all like he nor Captain Archer, or even T’Pol for that matter, had thought it would. It started off fine, then things started getting out of hand. And then crazy. When the proverbial shit hit the fan, that’s when Trip decided to call for back-up. Only problem was, there was only one person he knew he could call on the ship who’d help them, and with the way he was being watched by their captors, he had to be fairly sneaky about making that call. His hope was that they’d seem less threatening if he made it sound like he was just trying to set up a date of some kind. That had to sound better than, “Get your scrawny ass down here with your security team and bail us the hell out!”

It took Malcolm a couple minutes to finally catch on to what he was doing when he finally got his communicator out and was able to contact them. Yeah okay, so Trip might have laid it on a little heavy, he was even having a hard time keeping a straight face calling Malcolm “darlin’” and “babe”. For a while there it seemed like T’Pol might blow their cover with the way her eyebrow kept arching higher and higher. Hell, Trip was almost afraid it might stick like that! And Archer! Fat lot of good he was! He kept having to cover his laughter with terrible fake coughing! 

Then again, Jon was about the only person who knew how Trip actually felt about their tight-laced British tactical officer. How Trip wished the words he’d said were actually true; that he didn’t have to pretend that Malcolm were actually going to go on a date with him. None of which was helped any when Jon invited Malcolm to join them for dinner in the Captain’s Mess, and then left them alone together once T’Pol left. Trip had tried to play things off, teasing Malcolm and making a show of pretending to break up with him. Something hadn’t been right, though. The small smile Malcolm had offered him had been...wrong. That was the only way Trip could describe it.

Trip had tried to play it off, assuring Malcolm that they could still be friends even after the “breakup”, but not even that seemed to help. It wasn’t until after they’d parted ways for the night that Trip let himself start to mull things over. There was a thought tickling the back of his mind, one that he almost wanted to believe, even though he wasn’t sure he could. Maybe, just maybe, Malcolm had wished all the things Trip had said had been true, too?

The recycled oxygen filtering through the ship suddenly got a whole lot thinner. 

Dressed in only a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, Trip bolted down the corridor to Malcolm’s quarters. His hand was on the comm before he could even second guess himself, and the door opened without him having any clue as to what he was going to say or do. Instead, he blurted out: “Did you wanna have dinner with me t’night?”

Malcolm blinked twice, his bemusement evident on his face as he stared at Trip. “We just had dinner together.” His brow furrowed as concern sprang up in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Trip felt his cheeks flush under Malcolm’s scrutiny and moved to slip into the room uninvited. If he was misreading things or wrong about this, he didn’t want anyone to see his utter humiliation when Malcolm rejected him. Or punched him. More likely just politely reject him, which would no doubt hurt more than a punch. 

“I know we just had dinner t’gether, that’s not what I…” his words trailed off as he turned to face his friend, the object of his secret midnight dreams. Who, Trip only just noticed, was standing there in front of him wearing nothing more than his Starfleet issued blue boxer-briefs and undershirt. Just like he’d been while they were trapped in that basement on Risa. Less grimey and not covered in whatever foul alcohol that had gotten all over them when Trip broke the bottle to get them free, but still. 

The concern in Malcolm’s eyes intensified as he dropped his arms to his sides and took three steps to stop right in front of Trip, one hand gripping Trip’s shoulder gently. “Trip? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Here, sit down.” 

Trip let himself be maneuvered onto Malcolm’s bunk before Malcolm hurried to fill a glass with water. It was a struggle not to watch as that lithe back was turned to him, giving him a few that would have no doubt left his knees weak -- if he’d been standing up, of course. Malcolm might have been on the smaller side, slight build and unassuming to most people, but there were carefully concealed muscles there that Trip wouldn’t have minded sinking his teeth into, at least once. Or maybe just drag his tongue along them and--

“ _ Commander _ !”

Startled out of his thoughts, Trip nearly jumped out of his skin at Malcolm’s aggravated -- though borderline panicked -- voice.  _ Shit _ ! He’d been staring after all, and never realized it!  _ Way to really make Malcolm worry, Slick! _

With a shake of his head, he reached for the glass of water, downed half of it and took a deep breath. This was going worse than he could have even imagined. If he were being honest with himself though, the scant few times he’d had any sort of relationship with another man, they had approached him about it first. Trip could talk up the ladies all night and all day, snag a date without even trying most of the time, but when it came to the guys? Well, he pretty much floundered hopelessly. 

When he finally was able to bring himself to looking up again, Malcolm had pulled his desk chair over and was sitting directly in front of him. Elbows on his knees, leaned forward, close in case he needed to catch Trip or something. Trip could only stare at him. He really did love Malcolm, why did he have to say it during a fake relationship, though? And then again as a “joke” while playfully breaking up with him? There was no way Malcolm would ever believe him, now! Maybe he should have waited a few days, or even a week. Hell, with Malcolm’s memory, maybe a few months or a year would have been better. A few hours between thinking he didn’t stand a chance to realizing he probably had blown his  _ only _ chance might not be the right time to confess his feelings. 

Then again, his traitorous mouth didn’t seem to be in any hurry for him to find out. He’d been staring, again, if the fear mounting in those storm grey eyes was anything to go by. And if not that, then Malcolm shoving himself up off the chair, muttering about calling Phlox and the captain down immediately sure as hell was. Swallowing hard, Trip grabbed Malcolm’s wrist before he could get to the comm. 

“No! I’m fine, Malcolm. Sorry, I just...I,” he stammered, struggling to find the right words and refusing to let go of the wrist firmly in his grasp. Skin so soft and warm. He couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of it felt like. “Have dinner with me t’morrow night?”

“We have dinner together nearly every night, Trip. What’s this all about? What’s going on?”

Trip shook his head, mentally cursing himself for being so terrible at this. “No, I meant,” he moved his hand from around Malcolm’s wrist and turned it so their fingers could interlace. Crazy the way their hands fit together so perfectly. “J’st you an’ me havin’ dinner t’gether. Like uh, like a date.”

Before he had time to react Malcolm was yanking his hand away, scowl firmly in place on his face as he turned his back to Trip. “The game was over hours ago, Commander. I don’t appreciate you--”

“It’s not a game, Malcolm!” Trip was on his feet, his hands on Malcolm’s shoulders, turning him so they were face to face again. “Honest. No game. I mean it. I’d like t’ have dinner with you, as a real date.”

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed into thin, calculating, silver slits. His jaw clenched and for a moment Trip feared he might actually get punched after all. Trip’s heart fluttered at the thought. If Malcolm was that upset about the so-called game, then that had to have meant that he’d wanted it to be true just as much as Trip! Didn’t it?

Swallowing hard, Trip slid his hands down Malcolm’s arms slowly, soaking in the feel of him until their fingers intertwined again. He was standing well within Malcolm’s personal space, close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the soft, warm, sharp exhale Malcolm probably wasn’t even aware he’d done. So close he could watch as Malcolm’s gorgeous eyes seemed to change colors. He watched the emotions chase each other through those eyes: fear, hope, doubt, anger, joy. Trip took half a step closer. 

“Malcolm?” He breathed, releasing one hand to cup a sinfully sharp sculpted cheek instead. The quiet sudden inhale was all the boost Trip’s courage needed. Leaning down just enough that he could brush the tip of his nose against Malcolm’s, head already angled for what was to come next, Trip continued in a pleading murmur. “Malcolm, darlin’, I didn’t mean t’ hurt you. Didn’t mean t’ get your hopes up an’ then shatter ‘em like I did. I didn’t think I stood a chance with you. Now that I know I do...please have dinner with me t’morrow night? J’st the two of us. See where things mi--”

The air knocked out of him and words cut off by a body suddenly pressed flush against his own, soft lips bruising his in their rush to taste him, Trip stumbled back a few steps in surprise before he caught himself. He smiled into the kiss, one hand still on Malcolm’s cheek while the other settled low on Malcolm’s back; pulling him in closer and making it clear he had no intentions of letting go.

Things would work out between them just fine. Even when they fought, when things seemed doomed and like the galaxy was laughing at them again -- trying to tear them apart; things would work out. It would take some time, and the insisting of Trip’s mother and Malcolm’s sister, but they’d eventually come to realize that they may have started off as friends, but they never had actually been  _ just _ friends.


End file.
